The Disappearance and Recovering of a Ring Rat
by Beyond The Mat
Summary: Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase unwittingly witness an abduction. It's something easily unnoticeable, due to the shadowy lives of ring rats. Critiques requested.
1. Chapter 1

**Published July 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "National Self Storage- The Disappearance of Jenna Jane Sheridan." Some minor backstory has been added to this thread that does not appear in our forum, simply for ease of reading as a stand-alone story with appropriate tie-ins to the WWE. You will meet more OCs than Superstars in this story, but you will also witness how they blend. Anyone can throw a roomful of Superstars together and call it a story, but this has been crafted to show how the outsiders and insiders intertwine.**

**If you would like to interact with characters like this, please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome. **

**At the bottom of this chapter, the OC in question's biography is listed. If you wish to know her backstory, it is available there; otherwise, feel free to skip down to the bottom and click to continue reading another chapter. We will continue this in each chapter to introduce the characters.**

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><p>Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase were exhausted. It was the end of a Supershow which doubled as a taping, and they'd ended up taking 2 of the backstage kids with them in the car. One was John Cena's 15-year old son Mac, and the other was Aiden Quinn, younger sibling of one of the guys on the roster. Cody and Ted had their own conversation going on in the front seat, and the boys in the back had theirs, for the most part. All Cody and Ted wanted was to get out of the damned traffic that was backed up in the arena parking lot, while Mac and Aiden were content with their surroundings, "picking on" Ted andor Cody as well as generally making fun of others that they happened to see out the car windows. You know how males are. Doesn't matter the age. Get 4 guys together in a car and there's likely some non-politically correct humor going on.

That was evident when the girl walked past the car and Aiden started laughing at her 5-inch heels. It was hard to see just how pretty she was, when she was dressed almost like a prostitute. Mac, a nice kid, was even inspired to laugh and yell "Skank!" Cody and Ted reflexively chuckled, because Mac had spotted a ring rat, and called it for what he saw it. It's how things were on the road. No harm, no foul...

* * *

><p>They - they as always being Lizzie Rose and Jenna Jane - went to a WWE Smackdown show last night. Jenna Jane hadn't been into trying to hook up with anybody. That earned her a tongue-lashing from Lizzie Rose.<p>

"How do you expect to meet anybody? For goodness sakes, Jenna Jane! We spent money on these here tickets! These weren't free tonight! So now you wanna not try to get that money back? I can't believe you!" she'd yelled. "Are you on your period or something?"

Jenna Jane was ready to lie and say yes she was, but shook her head no. "I just...I dunno, Lizzie Rose. I just would rather go watch the show."

That sent Lizzie Rose in a tizzy. "JUST WATCH THE SHOW? You're crazy, li'l girl. SO different from your sister. I swear to God sometimes that the wrong sister got hit by that car."

Jenna Jane actually staggered back with tears in her eyes. Her deceased sister, Brandy Lynn, had been Lizzie Rose's best friend. Times like this, Lizzie Rose could be so hurtful with her mouth, Jenna Jane had half a mind to just go to the nearest Greyhound bus station and buy a ticket to anywhere she could afford. Lizzie Rose knew she overstepped..and also knew she needed Jenna Jane to be noticed. If Jenna Jane left her, then Lizzie Rose's days of a ring rat would soon be over. The 'fresh meat' which was her little protege...

"I'm sorry, punkin," Lizzie Rose said. "That was cruel of me. I miss her too," she said, changing her tune and embracing her. "You can just watch the show, it's alright tonight."

Jenna Jane nodded tearfully and actually thanked Lizzie Rose for *consenting* to let her watch the show. Jenna Jane might have a killer body and be of legal age, but emotionally she was somewhat stunted. Beyond her 8th grade education, she was more or less mentally 14-15 years old. She wasn't retarded or even backward, just immature and vulnerable.

"Now you wait for me at the exit at the parkin' lot, Jenna Jane. I'm gonna disappear with Rusty for a little while," Lizzie Rose instructed in her deep drawl. Rusty had been one of the security guards that had set Lizzie Rose and Jenna Jane up tonight with closer seats to the ring, as well as free soda for Jenna Jane and free beer for Lizzie Rose, as well as an order of chicken fingers and fries. Well, free as in they didn't cost money. Lizzie Rose would 'barter' after the show on her knees backstage in a broom closet.

Jenna Jane had walked from the arena to the exit. She'd heard a few disparaging remarks out of car windows, by youthful-sounding voices. Like "Skank!" but hadn't lifted her head up to see where it came from. She wasn't gonna sass back or anything. She didn't know that the car had held Ted DiBiase, Cody Rhodes, and the youthful voices belonging to Aiden Quinn and Mac Cena. She just carried on along the way, ending up taking the 5-inch hellish heels off of her feet as she neared the exit. Those shoes were borrowed from Lizzie Rose and her feet were a mass of blisters. The no-see-um bugs and mosquitoes were out in full force, and with as much skin as she had showing in a belly shirt and micro-miniskirt, coupled with the oppressive heat even at night, had her pulling her hair off her neck and holding it, wishing she had a rubber band to make a ponytail, but she didn't.

The further she walked, the more catcalls and horn beeps happened. Traffic was at a standstill, and she heard the youthful voices with their disparaging remarks some more. She thought she heard an older voice tell them to hush, but she wasn't sure. She'd ducked behind the empty gate house at the entrance, just to be out of sight for a few minutes. She felt like she'd been on display and just needed to be away from all those pairs of eyes for a little while.

She did come out though. Gosh, it was so hot. Stifling. In a vulnerable moment, she looked up as a van beeped the horn. She looked up and saw the driver popping the lock on the passenger door, and he opened it. He was older and had kind eyes.

"Need a lift?" he asked. As she came closer, she could feel the air conditioning streaming out of the van. It was like a Christmas present. She shivered in the delicious frigid air and nodded, getting into the van.

Wanna guess what happened next?

No. Being raped this quickly, would've been too easy.  
>She felt the punch that she didn't see coming. Right in the side of her jaw. She screamed, but she mightn't have been heard because the windows were closed and there were cars beeping their horns in frustration of the traffic backup.<p>

"Stupid bitch," she heard as she was blacking out. "Damn ring rats, all the same. Lookin' for trouble. I watched you all night long, lookin' sweet and innocent. Sweet 'n innocent girls don't get into strange men's vans."

She slumped forward, and he shoved her backward, reaching over to recline the seat fully. He was driving to his storage unit. He kept the janitorial supplies he stole from work in there, as well as an old couch salvaged from the trash. For nights like these when he'd bring a "visitor", who he'd keep for a week or so at a time. He hadn't killed any...yet.

He swiped the card key to open the gate at the Self-Storage, and pulled up to his unit. He got out to unlock it, and then came around the passenger's side to unload his cargo. He tossed her on the couch, closed the unit and locked it back up. He had to go home to his wife and kids, but would be back in the morning.

* * *

><p><em>Name: Jenna Jane Sheridan<em>

Bio: Jenna Jane's sister, Brandy Lynn, passed away earlier this year in a car accident. She looked up to her big sister, much to her aunt who raised them's dismay. Grief and loss struck Jenna Jane hard, and she turned to Brandy Lynn's best friend, Lizzie Rose Marshall, not so much as a replacement or substitute big sister, but someone to fill the void left in her life. She's nestled under Lizzie Rose's wing, for better or for worse.

Brandy Lynn left Jenna Jane with not only memories, but a heroin habit. She's stepped into Brandy Lynn's shoes in many ways, mostly out of grief and loss. If Brandy Lynn was still alive, she'd likely have disappeared with Lizzie Rose and Jenna Jane would've been nothing but an afterthought, left back in the trailer park with their aunt. But these days, the numbness of daily life and the pain of the still-fresh memories of her sister's death makes her feel less like 18 and more like 58. The only times she really feels *alive* anymore is when on adventures with Lizzie Rose.

When money runs short, she's done things she's not proud of. Unlike Lizzie Rose, Jenna Jane hasn't been able to bring herself to turn a trick yet. She's stolen wallets and purses instead. There's a warrant for her arrest for theft in Nebraska, from the last time that the RAW roster performed there.

There's a certain something about Jenna Jane that's hard to put into words, though. She has almost a childlike innocence that can surface on her face sometimes; whether it's a little piece of her that still clings to a more innocent time in her rough life or good acting, even Jenna Jane herself doesn't know.

If it wasn't for her guilt-by-association with Lizzie Rose, Jenna Jane is the type of girl who very well could've been the next **_Miss Elizabeth_**, plucked from the sea of ring rats and spring-launched into stardom, the way Macho Man Randy Savage chose his lady. But at the rate things are going, Jenna Jane likely won't even make it to Miss Elizabeth's age at the time of her death, 43. She'll probably end up more like her late sister, or somewhere between 21 and 30, dead. She's already starting to die on the inside, so it shouldn't take long for the external to catch up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Published July 2011; This is Chapter 2 of a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "National Self Storage- The Disappearance of Jenna Jane Sheridan." Some minor backstory has been added to this thread that does not appear in our forum, simply for ease of reading as a stand-alone story with appropriate tie-ins to the WWE. You will meet more OCs than Superstars in this story, but you will also witness how they blend. Anyone can throw a roomful of Superstars together and call it a story, but this has been crafted to show how the outsiders and insiders intertwine.**

**If you would like to interact with characters like this, please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome. **

**At the bottom of this chapter, the OC(s) in question of the chapter's biography/biographies is/are listed. If you wish to know her backstory, it is available there; otherwise, feel free to skip down to the bottom and click to continue reading another chapter. We will continue this in each chapter to introduce the characters.**

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><p>Lizzie Rose rinsed her mouth 3 times. He came in her mouth after she told him not to. He tasted like sweat and funk and she didn't have any toothpaste in her purse, so had to make do with plain water from the fountain, water she spat back in.<p>

Rusty was an asshole. Sure, they got dinner and ticket upgrades from him, but the blow job she'd given him was worth a lot more. Turned out he was only a local WWE hire. Not really with the company, just a one-night local hire. Asshole. She hated him. She would've been better off fucking the arena janitor that she saw watching her and Jenna Jane. At least they would've had a new friend at the arena.

She walked across the parking lot, got the car and drove to pick up Jenna Jane, and was pissed to see that she wasn't at the exit. The traffic had lessened, and there was no sign of her. "Little bitch hooked up with somebody after all!" Lizzie Rose yelled, punching the steering wheel. "BITCH!"

She wasn't even bothering trying Jenna Jane's cellphone. She went straight back to the motel cursing the little girl's name. "I had to do all the fuckin' work and this is what I get in return?" she yelled, still going off on a tangent with no audience.

* * *

><p>"No, no, sir. I'm sure it's that one. She texted me from the inside, and is just waiting, dark doesn't bother her. No, really!"<p>

Cassandra Tate went out on a limb for this girl, and she didn't even know her? Why, because she had a damn heart. Unlock the others who saw her get in and just sit there and say nothing, she was right behind the van Jenna Jane got into. Her rental had tinted everything, and she wasn't seen, but sometimes its better that was as you can see. She sat on the side of the road with her lights off, and watch the van travel to the storage. Completely heartless. Cruel. Wrong. Illegal. She could go on with these words all night, she was that just of a person.

Now, she wasn't one to just go off and mentally rant, because very little bothered her. Of that very little, the majority of it belonged to her. As in, insulting her, rumors about her, things of that nature. But abuse of people and animals were completely wrong in her mind. Not that she had ever been a victim, but the abuser, but that's another story for another time.

A mixture of self-image issues, and the confidence she had in her aim with her taser had her to follow. She was more than pissed, and the local authorities had been contacted and given the license plate number, and a physical description of the man had been given. Now, rescuing her was something more daring. Most people wouldn't fall for any old story, and her own skills with picking locks and puzzles of this nature were completely at their limit already.

She called Deno, ugh, Aiden for a moment. Then, quickly hung up. She narrowed her eyes at the mental picture of him in her head. It was so easy to judge people, without knowing their life story, or about them as a person in general, but he had did just that. After all the talking he had done though, he had become one to ignore majority of the time. He lacked in the maturity department, and it showed tonight, with his own custom mix of assholery.

He just...spoke too soon. He'd have to learn. And yes, she was making an excuse for him, but that was because she wasn't like too many others. While they were not close anymore, nor would they probably ever date again, she still valued him as a person she knew, due to a very, very long history that she hadn't shared with anyone. And trust me, it was a lot to say about those two. In a way, they owed each other their lives, saved each other, but this wasn't the place for that.

She snapped out of her own thoughts, and cleared her throat. Sniffled a little at her own memories.

"Umm...If you're there, hold on. I'll get you out in a moment."

Now, her heels were high as well, by no means five inches. She'd be damned if she was caught dead in five inches, so couldn't run. Had to scoot her way along to the front, and direct the owner with the keys to get the door.

She explained on the way how her family was moving from Brooklyn, and her friend who was along for the ride got caught in the little storage place...uhh...Yo. It worked, and she sighed at the very thought of being in Brooklyn. She was Manhattan. Brooklyn. Hmph. Anyway.

She dusted her clothes some, and continued to talk. The manager only seemed to nod, and not care too much, but she yapped on anyway, because the more she did, the less he would want to hear, and the faster he would want to run away.

The lock was unlocked, the latch was unhooked, and the door shot up. "Oh, thank you so much mister! I promise I can get her out of here. Swear. It'll never happen again, we were just moving to fast, and me just being a blonde forgot she was here, and she was talking to her boyfriend and didn't notice, and then I wanted McDonald's and I just had to go change clothes for a little par-...Well thanks anyway!"

She had verbally chased that man off with words. Amazing, she was.

She turned on her heels, and her face matched nothing of what it did seven seconds ago. Her face was back to its stone, emotionless expression it usually had, and she shed the goofy demeanor all too quickly for just about anyone's liking.

"Look, I don't know you, and you don't know me. Whatever. The least I can do is give you a ride." She said, a little stern, but again, it would be something the people around her were used to.

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><p><em>Name: Lizzie Rose Marshall<em>

_Bio: Lizzie Rose is 21, and a dyed in the wool ring rat. Her best friend, Brandy Lynn SHeridan and she started chasing wrestlers when they were 14 years old, scoring their first fuck after an indy fundraiser that had taken place in a church basement. They'd lied and told the 2 wrestlers, 1 who was an up and comer, and the other who should've quit wrestling 10 years sooner after he was out of his prime, that they were 18. But it wouldn't really have mattered if they were underage or not._

_Brandy Lynn was killed by a drunk driver 6 months ago. That might sound tragic until the rest of the story's told..the drunk driver was Brandy Lynn herself. Lizzie Rose has taken Brandy Lynn's little sister, Jenna Jane, under her wing, and brings her out to chase the wrestlers these days. Depending on how much money's available, they'll follow the WWE as far as they can on the road, and depending on what sort of work is available, they'll wait tables or, in Lizzie Rose's case, turn the occasional trick to get the cash to wake up the next day and do it all over again. It's a twisted version of "Someday, my prince will come." The reality is more like "Someday, a pro wrestler will come..in my mouth.." and the fairytale ending being, "..then fall in love with me and I'll get my happily-ever-after."_

_Well, it's that way more for Lizzie Rose than Jenna Jane. Lizzie Rose is being more realistic that there's got to be a source of income coming in, and Jenna Jane believes more in romance. Jenna Jane hasn't been passed around like Lizzie Rose yet. Yet._

_It's a kick for Lizzie Rose to hear when some of the guys try to pick them up, "You two look like a young version of LayCool!" It's not true, but flattery (and free booze, shared drugs and hot sex with hot guys) gets you everywhere. ESPECIALLY if you're a midcarder or better._

_It's not like Lizzie Rose has set out to have a deathwish, but she wakes up many mornings wondering if this sunrise will be the last she sees. Her parents, not exactly classy people, have even disowned her. Lizzie Rose has the notoriety of being the girl in the trailer park that other mothers warn their daughters about. Her mother's heart condition can't take much more of Lizzie Rose's antics. Birthday money last year went toward the sliding scale health clinic's treatment of a nasty case of genital warts Lizzie Rose had picked up on the circult. _

_"You're going to end up dead!" her mother had cried, trying to talk sense, and Lizzie Rose's offhanded answer of "Aren't we all?" was met with a backhand by her father, throwing her out of the trailer after a final parental beating thrown in for good measure. They'd raised her the best they could and were now washing their hands of her. Lizzie Rose was a standard wild child. All grown up at 21, looking 25..but she's got Jenna Jane as her little sidekick, her protege, and there won't be time for boredom if Lizzie Rose plays her cards right._

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><p><em>Name: Cassandra Lynn Tate<em>

_Bio: Cassandra has a look, voice and mind, all of which she's worked extremely hard for. It was hard getting to the top, and even harder staying up there. Right now, she found a happy medium, to keep herself afloat and be able to manage a successful life and a kid. That's right, kid. At the young age of 16, carrying herself as if she were 30, you'd think she was her mom's friend instead of her 'BFF' should you see them walking together. Well, she'd take the compliment on her maturity in her head while glaring at you physically, and walking away. Like these wrestlers, it was her signature move._

_Aiming to be an entertainer was difficult, even for those who had what it took. You had to know people, you had to have the correct agents, the right money, the right everything. Perfect. No matter how much she gave herself off that way, she hadn't had the luck to succeed on her own. As much as she hated to take help, generally being a one-woman show, she did take the advice of doing things locally, and simply getting her face out there. No matter how many good demos and singles she recorded, she wouldn't be able to stay at a label for long._

_You could say luck was on her side when she finally caught the eye of Jim Johnston, the head of WWE's music and most of its production, on accident, when she was performing in a bar in her hometown of Manhattan that she was far too young to be in. After that, he offered a small paying internship with WWE. Who was Cassandra to turn down any sort of deal of that caliber? That was a major company, and she would be able to travel, get out of her little normal life she'd gladly trade away to get her dream._

_And, well, her dream made her..cold. Heartless. Starting over was hard, obviously. Focusing on school, and music was her thing. Until she met one Aiden Quinn. Opened up some to him, and they exchanged some pretty deep thoughts. With his guitar playing and her singing, they'd become something of the typical "it" teen couple._

_...until she learned of his..background. The rich lifestyle, the "having it all and throwing it away" mindset he didn't know he was living in. Joe, his brother who'd gone to college, made something of himself. Okay. That's fine. But Aiden was a lost puppy, following his older brother because it looked like the cool thing to do. If Joe Quinn would've stayed in Canada, he'd be a completely different person, and not this recluse turned rebellious, obnoxious jackass we know and are stuck with today._

_Something in her head keeps her gravitated toward him, but for the most part, he knows how she ticks, and what bothers her, so she often regrets bothering and storms away, making her wonder why she bothers to begin with. Other than that, if you can get past her seriousness and maturity, she's not a bad person at all to be around and is protective and loyal to those she cares for. A positive idea: Don't cross her, because she has no problem being a complete and utter bitch._

_"I can be a bitch. It's not a very pretty sight." -Cassandra_


	3. Chapter 3

**Published July 2011; This is Chapter 3 of a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "National Self Storage- The Disappearance of Jenna Jane Sheridan." Some minor backstory has been added to this thread that does not appear in our forum, simply for ease of reading as a stand-alone story with appropriate tie-ins to the WWE. You will meet more OCs than Superstars in this story, but you will also witness how they blend. Anyone can throw a roomful of Superstars together and call it a story, but this has been crafted to show how the outsiders and insiders intertwine.**

**If you would like to interact with characters like this, please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome. **

* * *

>When she heard the voice outside, Jenna Jane started to wake, and was terrified. It was a female voice, but that didn't matter. She hadn't been able to make out what was said. The tone she could hear didn't seem threatening, but all Jenna Jane knew right now was fear and pain. The entire left side of her face was swollen and bruised from the punch she'd taken in the van.<p>When the door flew up, she cowered into the cushion of the dirty old couch, the light, even at 2:00 a.m. hurting her eyes for a moment. There was an outline of a man which had her burst into fresh tears, but then the man left. The woman whose voice she heard was now left alone with her.<p>

Jenna Jane was close to being in shock, obviously terrified. She could only nod and follow. She clutched her purse. The only reason she had her purse with her was because she'd worn the strap crossways around her body and her captor hadn't thought to remove it after he'd taken her cellphone away. It was a cheap TracFone, that the police were recovering at this moment, a key piece of evidence that solidified the caller who phoned in the plate and everything else.

Police lights were at the gate. Another patrol car had been dispatched here to National Self Storage. Fear flooded her again and her hand darted out to clutch her rescuer's.

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><br>Lizzie woke up to her phone going off. It said Jenna Jane was calling.  
>Shouldn't even answer it, the little bitch left and made Lizzie Rose do all the work. Still had the taste of rancid cock in her mouth. That was all Jenna Jane's fault. What, now she wanted a ride back to the room?<p>Begrudgingly she answered, "What do you want?"<p>

Lizzie Rose sat up when the person on the other end of the line wasn't Jenna Jane at all. It was some policeman. At first, she thought maybe Jenna Jane got busted for drugs, but Lizzie Rose knew for a fact that Jenna Jane wasn't carrying any tonight. "What-all is this about?"

Once she heard Jenna Jane wasn't under arrest, well, Lizzie Rose wasn't believing for a second what she was being told. It was probably a date gone bad. And Jenna Jane was looking for some sort of sympathy. A storage unit indeed. "Abducted" in a van. She had to cover the mic on the phone so her derisive snort wasn't heard.

"The Viking Motel out on 80 West" was the words of where she was, but said, "It's real late, and I'm tired. I guess just drop her off here in one of them squad cars. Your city's got more money for gas than I do." Lizzie Rose hung up and would see Jenna Jane when the police brought her back. Then the interrogation would begin. If there was a scintilla of truth to Jenna Jane's story, well then that's what you get when you don't stay in pairs. Go off alone and then consider yourself lucky to be alive. Seriously.

* * *

><p>"Don't worry, I'll take her. Mhm! Sure! No problem at all." Cassandra smiled, and gave Jenna a side hug to really sell it. It had been right at thirty minutes, the cops giving questions and them being answered pretty detailed. She was good with words, and with Jenna being rattled, that much was obvious, she had to be the confident, speaking one. Like Lizzie Rose, except there was one difference. Major difference. Cassandra was not a skank. A tramp. A whore. A hoe. Whatever you're terminology was for a girl who made her living by involving herself in sexual performance, she was not. Well, she'd take bitch. She could be a bitch a little. But that's not part of this right now. Anyway.<p>

When she heard "Lizzie Rose" spoken, she clearly cringed. Then sort of recognized this girl, because that...woman/troll/beast did always have someone with her, and was this her? This had to be. She was pretty, and those shoes she was carrying, oh my god. Yeah, this had to be her.

She could...take her under her wing. Her majestically, beautiful, clean and not whorish wing.

"C'mon, let's hurry up and get you back, no need to keep her waiting, right?" She gleamed. But on the inside, she was having more of a plan cooked up in her head.

Okay, if the police called her back for Jenna not being taken where she was supposed to be, she would say her resort room was much closer, and kept her relaxed due to the night she had, and she would be returned. That, and the fact that they were currently in a restaurant being served their food, and need more time to eat anyway, and who wanted to drive far distances after good food, right? Oh Yeah! No one. No. One. At. All.

She felt a little like a superhero, the superpower being her split personality of course. And it showed again the moment Jenna sat in the car.

"Look, I'm not letting you go back to that...whore. Plain and simple. I'm young, but I know she's nothing but trouble. You're pretty...you're...you can be molded into so much more than just the simple ring rat. That and the fact that people are going to take notice that you're with her, and not want you around. There's a reason those girls can't get backstage anymore. Get banned by names and face."

She had seen it time and time again, those girls playing as if they were little girlfriends, or someone's daughter, cousin, niece, something extremely unoriginal. And the guys had no problem shutting them down and sending them packing like trash, only for their hearts to be broken, because they thought they would be getting more now, and emotions bruised, for fooling themselves. Only hope being that maybe, just maybe, a condom broke and a baby was on the way. Not going to be this one. Nope. By her peaceful demeanor, and small attitude, this willingness she had. To follow whoever would help her, she needed better, so she could be better. That much was clear to her.

That and...she sorta liked have people around. This was like a freebie, in a way.

She said this really slow, and her cattiness could was being focused to a certain blonde. "Lizzie Rose can't help you. Help you go down the drain." She put a hand on the girl's shoulder, after she started the car. "Let. Me. Help. You."

Now, if she refused, she'd take her back to Lizzie Rose, and she could at least know that she possibly stopped someone from dying tonight. That man would of came back. And possibly hurt her, or worse.

* * *

><p>Jenna Jane was almost transfixed by the lights, the crackling of sound over the police radio, the dark night coming to life by the opening of what could've been her crypt, once locked inside. If you looked at the lights in a certain way, they were almost pretty. She still had her hand in Cassandra's.<p>

Cassandra had two faces, Jenna Jane was thinking. Not a bad twoface, like Lizzie Rose, but two faces that suited purposes. The one almost singsong tone with the police officers, but when they weren't listening, the tone she took with Jenna Jane. Jenna Jane was all big dark eyes, nodding to whatever Cassandra said when the police were standing there. It was like Jenna Jane was and wasn't there, at the same time.

Another police car came and Jenna Jane started to tremble. When there's more than one, you're in big trouble. That's how it always was at home. Maybe this one was coming to arrest her, even though she couldn't think of anything she might've done to be arrested. Now the carnival-like lights had a more sinister look in her perceptions.

The sergeant stepped out of the car and was the sort of man who looked like he probably had a few daughters of his own, daughters that wouldn't get into cars with strange men, God help them, and he cut through the cluster of police to talk to these girls himself. He had Jenna Jane's phone and was returning it. He had strong reservations about releasing the victim to the Viking Motel. That was another hotspot for police activity. They'd just taken a body out of there two nights ago, a drug overdose. Crystal Meth was produced in rooms at that place. Prostitution went down there.

The Sergeant looked hard at Cassandra, eyes narrowing and mind recalling the voice on the phone. He couldn't picture that voice coming out of this one's mouth. He could put a face on the caller of, well, not to racially profile, but white trash. The composed young woman before him didn't match that description. The victim was one that could be considered 'on the fence'..she could go either way, becoming a product of her environment or better than it.

He handed the cellphone over to Cassandra once he heard the New Yorkese. "She'll need to come and make a statement, but we can do that in the morning," he said, talking about Jenna Jane like she wasn't even there. As if he sensed she wasn't there.

He returned to his car and the other officers started doing the same. The lights died down and now, she didn't remember her feet bringing her there, Jenna Jane was in Cassandra's car.

Then a restaurant. She was sitting across from Cassandra in a restaurant.

Self-preservation was what caused mindslips like this. Jenna Jane didn't know it but it was a skill she'd practiced all her life. It can be frustrating sometimes to not remember, but then you realize that if you could remember some stuff, you'd be worse off...

She had heard everything Cassandra had said to her, though. She'd gotten through. It was when Cassandra touched her shoulder, that Jenna Jane finally made eye contact with her. Huge dark eyes under impossibly long lashes, full of a trust that rightfully shouldn't be there with someone she'd basically just met, the sort of trust that would end up getting her killed if it wasn't with someone like Cassandra...

The way Cassandra had enunciated "Let. Me. Help. You." was what broke Jenna Jane, which brought her to lift her eyes to hers, and then she dissolved into tears. Told her everything. It all came out like a flood.

Her sister. Lizzie Rose. Home. Had to get out of there. The road. Likes watching the shows. Doesn't wanna do what Lizzie Rose said they have to if they ever wanna be somebody. Hasn't done that *yet* but Lizzie Rose isn't carrying her much longer. Didn't shoot heroin but snorted it when they got some. Not an addict but helped the weight stay down. Was scared. Didn't know what to do. Didn't want to give a statement in the morning to the police. Wanted to disappear. "Could you make me disappear?" she'd asked, her trust exposing itself like a raw nerve again.

* * *

><p>At this moment, Jenna Jane's cellphone was ringing. Lizzie Rose thought the policeman might pick back up. An hour or so had gone by, but no Jenna Jane had been delivered. Maybe she'd been charged with something after all?<p>

Lizzie Rose paced a bit before deciding to call. No policeman picked up, and she ended up being fed to voicemail. So she left one that if the police heard it, well it wouldn't be Lizzie Rose's ass. And if Jenna Jane heard it, well, she'd figure it out.

"All's I know is it's real late, and I reckon you got yourself in some trouble. I don't even know what you was thinkin', if the policeman told it how it was..gettin' into a stranger's van. Really, Jenna Jane. Safety in numbers. Bad things happen when girls go places alone. I TOLD you to wait and you didn't listen. Sometimes I think you got no sense in your head, girl. Now, I ain't gonna waste gasoline and sleepin' time when I've paid for this room for a whole night...a room you still owe me half the money on...to come huntin' for you if I don't know exactly where you are. So I expect you to call me when you get this. I swear, sometimes I don't even know why I'm your friend, but it's what Brandy Lynn would've wanted. If I don't hear from you by morning, I'm callin' your Mama. I hope for your sake your Daddy don't find out what you done."

* * *

><p>Jenna Jane's eyes had been almost begging Cassandra's for an answer when her phone went off. She fumbled with her purse to take it out and the near-antique's screen lit up.<p>

It was Lizzie Rose calling. Jenna Jane's face drained completely of color and was almost translucent. Her voice escaped her and she sort of stopped breathing, looking at the phone like a live snake. Her mind raced. I just told all the secrets and she must have found out. She must know. Oh my God

Her trembling hand dropped it onto the table, causing her fork to clatter to the floor and then the little beep noise that announced a new voicemail was waiting went off. She was trembling almost violently now, staring at the phone in unmistakable fear.

Another mindslip had her in the car with Cassandra. It was almost spooky how the mindslips could come. She didn't recall handing over her phone to Cassandra, but there it was. Jenna Jane whispered the access code if she wanted to retrieve the message. Jenna Jane was too afraid to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Published August 2011; This is Chapter 4 of a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "National Self Storage- The Disappearance of Jenna Jane Sheridan." Some minor backstory has been added to this thread that does not appear in our forum, simply for ease of reading as a stand-alone story with appropriate tie-ins to the WWE. You will meet more OCs than Superstars in this story, but you will also witness how they blend. Anyone can throw a roomful of Superstars together and call it a story, but this has been crafted to show how the outsiders and insiders intertwine.**

**If you would like to interact with characters like this, please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome.**

* * *

><p>"Answer the fuckin' phone, you dirty little whore," Lizzie Rose muttered as the phone rang four times before kicking over to voicemail.<p>

She called Jenna Jane over and over again, also calling her every name in the book in the process. She hung up before leaving messages, turning Jenna Jane's phone into a non-stop symphony of cheap, pre-programmed ringtone going off.

"ANSWER THE FUCKIN' PHONE!" she was now screaming during the sixth or seventh time she'd made the call. Yes, Lizzie Rose was starting to panic. Rightfully so.

Wouldn't you, if your meal ticket was AWOL?

* * *

><p>"You can't prove anything. I didn't do anything."<p>

Steven Novak was sticking to his story, even after the punch to the face received by one of the young, burly detectives who apparently knighted himself Jenna Jane's champion.

"I have a record, yes, but I didn't do anything this time. You're trying to frame me."

The detectives were relentless.

"I want a glass of water. If you don't give it to me, I want a lawyer."

He was being threatened so he threatened back. Cops don't want you to lawyer up, because lawyers know all of an arrestee's rights. Lawyers were taxpayer-provided champions. Yes, Steven Novak knew the system well. He'd have the right to face his accuser, or accusers.

The glass of water was brought and he sipped it almost daintily. He'd been in many an interrogation room, in police precincts, in jailhouses, and in makeshift mobile stations. He was old enough to be these detective's father. Possibly old enough to be the one who punched him's grandfather.

"I know you can't detain me for too long without a statement. You have no proof. Yes, I have a storage unit. Yes, I move around a lot. But that just makes it easier for you to pin things on me rather than looking for your real suspect."

He was told that it was his plate given, his van, his locker. Too many pieces to the puzzle were fitting.

"But you can't hold me for more than 48 hours without official charges. I'd like to be taken to a cell now. I'm an old man. I need some rest. You haven't treated me very nicely."

The cops looked at each other in disbelief. Here was this old man, creepy yet medically fragile, who took a punch without much of a reaction, who was now playing mindgames with them.

Steven Novak was led to the holding cell, where he proceeded to lay down on the bench and sleep like a baby for awhile. The last things he heard before falling into dreamland was a detective frantically trying to call Cassandra's cellphone. They'd taken her phone number at the scene and the victim wasn't answering hers.

Steven Novak was dangerous. He knew the laws, and what he didn't know, a public defender would.

Safety is something the police can assist with, but not provide completely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Published August 2011; This is Chapter 5 of a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "National Self Storage- The Disappearance of Jenna Jane Sheridan." Some minor backstory has been added to this thread that does not appear in our forum, simply for ease of reading as a stand-alone story with appropriate tie-ins to the WWE. You will meet more OCs than Superstars in this story, but you will also witness how they blend. Anyone can throw a roomful of Superstars together and call it a story, but this has been crafted to show how the outsiders and insiders intertwine.**

**If you would like to interact with characters like this, please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome.**

* * *

><p>When *Cassandra's* phone started going off at the same time, it was a quick jerking back into reality. Jenna Jane's eyes bugged out. Everything felt like it was closing in and she was rushing headlong into a panic attack.<p>

She bolted from the table blindly, fortunately the right route to the ladies' room. What little food she had been able to choke down came right back up once she got in there. She couldn't even make it to the stall, but instead, the sink.

The walls were closing in. Either it was some sort of flashback from some of the drugs she'd done, or it was the stress, tension and pure fear she was feeling. Probably the latter, but there could be a little of the former in there as well, as drugs cooked up in motel rooms and gotten from extremely questionable sources were not exactly user-friendly.

Then the tears came back, as she stood on shaky, coltish legs, hurriedly holding the faucet down with one hand, trying to rinse the mess from the sink with the other and making it worse. The restaurant ladies room still had a paper towel dispenser, unlike some places that only have the hand air dryer. She was trying to clean up the mess before others came in. It wasn't going well.

She eyed the window which was partially open. She could probably squeeze through it and disappear into the night. The fight-or-flight instinct was strong, and with the panic, she might run for it. It was as if Cassandra's ringtone had been some sort of warning siren. Jenna Jane was truly unhinging.


	6. Chapter 6

**Published August 2011; This is Chapter 6 of a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "National Self Storage- The Disappearance of Jenna Jane Sheridan." Some minor backstory has been added to this thread that does not appear in our forum, simply for ease of reading as a stand-alone story with appropriate tie-ins to the WWE. You will meet more OCs than Superstars in this story, but you will also witness how they blend. Anyone can throw a roomful of Superstars together and call it a story, but this has been crafted to show how the outsiders and insiders intertwine.**

**If you would like to interact with characters like this, please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome.**

* * *

><p>Now, Cassandra was at a crossroads. Got after the girl, or take this call. She figured in her head, that she would come back, for the simple fact that she had no where to go. She had to want something better. Cassandra was one to go to bat for people, and she'd do her best for Jenna Jane. She couldn't see why she wouldn't want...oh...I don't know, a real job, but that was her head. She couldn't force her either. If anything, this would go on her record as a witness for some almost rapemurder case that she helped solved. Couldn't make the girl do anything, she knew that much.

She had to go through the process of this all over again, really. She played calm because they were playing panic, and everyone flipping out wouldn't help anyone. It wasn't healthy for the situation at hand.

She sighed a little, and perked herself up. She told the license plate number she watched for the night, as well as a probably dead on description of the offender. From his hair, weight, size in general, she had it. Glasses and a lot of staring did that much.

She reviewed over the phone, and told them that's all she knew, after she described just what she saw in full detail again. She pocketed her phone again, and tapped her nails on the table.

"...She'd run."

She figured. At the very lest, give her some money for a bus ticket or something. Don't have to take all the help you get, but don't be stupid either. She casually walked into the bathroom, probably none too pleased, and waited for a moment.

"Cops are probably putting him in prison. If you leave, it could happen again, and no one might be there. But, if you want to walk, I can give you a little money, and you can be on your way."

Maybe at first, she wasn't giving options. That wasn't...right. This criminal didn't give the girl options either. It was what she wanted, so, let her pick. Well or not. Was all up to her.

* * *

><p>Jenna Jane looked up from the trash can. She'd actually found a way to scoop much of the mess out of the sink compliments of dry paper towels, not wetting them first. Shaking hands hadn't made the job easy but at least the sink wasn't looking too horrendous. Someone else's gag reflex wouldn't kick in by looking at the sink since it was nearly cleaned up.<p>

There was just the lingering odor of Ladies' Room needing a cleaning, that stale smell that just about every public toilet has by a day's end. So it wasn't like the stench of vomit punched women in the face as they walked in.

It was just Cassandra and Jenna Jane in there, and Jenna Jane looked atrocious. She shook still, like a leaf in the wind, and listened to her options.

If she took the option of a little money, Jenna Jane knew what she'd do with it. Probably score a little from a dealer, and if she was lucky, overdose. But with Jenna Jane's luck, on her own, without even Lizzie Rose, she'd end up dead.

She wasn't ready for this. The world was a big place. While she was legally of age, emotionally she just wasn't there. Undereducated and too physically attractive: Not a good mix. Her fear was clear.

"I'm scared, C'sandra," she said, her drawl shortening the formal name of her rescuer, and she held the edge of the sink as she spoke what she felt. Pure fear. Fear of both the known and the unknown. Left to her own devices, she was roadkill. But she also knew that the burden that was Jenna Jane shouldn't be Cassandra's to bear.

"I don't know what to do."


End file.
